The Nargothrond Pillowbooks
by Umeko
Summary: The kings of Nargothrond keep personal journals. So do their court.
1. Finrod

I am experimenting again with a different format of writing. This time influenced by The Pillow Book. The original literary work is an eclectic mix of personal observations, poetry and narratives written down by a court lady in Heian Japan. As this was meant for the author's personal consumption and never to be read by others, some of the passages/ lists will be open to the reader's interpretation.

**Finrod **

Year 102

Best jewels paid to allies. Should have tried to negotiate for a further discount. Better not risk it lest we have the Narog racing through our halls. Expected better. Received a fancy golden necklace (Nauglamír) that matches my hair-colour and the name Felagund, Hewer of Caves. It doesn't look half-bad, even if it is more modest than Uncle Thingol's place. Not everyone can have a Maia wife and part-Maia daughter to give that extra oomph to the place. Well, they try to convince both Luthien and me to hook up for political reasons, but it didn't work out. Luckily Artanis was more than happy with that milksop Celeborn. Methinks she will run circles around the poor fool.

Now I need try to convince dear, dear Turukano to move here with me. Come on, admit it, coz. You enjoyed what happened in the tent that night by the river. I know that. Wonder where he flitted off to. Haven't had any news from Nervast in quite a while now.

Somehow managed to father a son – Gildor – who just got sent here by his Nana. Who is she anyway? We might have met at that big party at Uncle Thingol's place. I do recall the entire thing was one big orgy and I woke up between two of Luthien's handmaidens. Apparently, Gildor was sent packing so as not to embarrass his Nana (or his stepfather) further in Menegroth. Well, all the best with her new husband.

* * *

Year 116

Received news from Turgon. Feeling miffed at Lord Ulmo for giving him a better site for his hidden city. He gets a green mountain valley while I am in a damp cave by the river. Wondering if I have somehow offended Lord Ulmo by frolicking in his realm with various persons. It is a Teleri thing to take your date into the water for carnal-type activities. Hope no one tells my Amme or Amarie. Amarie is quite a decent Vanye but I do hope she doesn't wait for me. Faithfulness is overrated here in Beleriand – live life to the fullest before making that call on Mandos, I say.

Turgon tells me to keep away and he is not going to tell me exactly where his city is (even though the Eagle who delivered his letter might). So hurt. Some unneeded apologies over what happened on that camping trip. I am so touched he still remembers. Almost makes me feel like extending another invitation for a camping trip to him. Well, he wasn't that great in the bed – too prudish for my liking. Plus he kept calling for Elenwe.

My ever-loyal Edrahil is kicking up a fuss over my recreational activities with various members of my court. Well, an elf needs to have a pastime to while away the cold winter nights. Yet whenever I extend my invitation to him, he runs off like a scared rabbit from my bedchamber. Seriously, it is just poker – strip-poker. I do keep complimentary shirts for those who lose everything else to walk home in. I am not unkind. Yes, I do regret that truth-or-dare game that ended with me streaking through the hallways wearing my crown jewels and nothing else.

* * *

Year 150

Feeling seriously bored and wonder if I should contact my nearest cousins for recreational jaunts of exploration. I will leave my brothers out (and Artanis too), in case we have a repeat of that memorable camping trip with Turgon. Might ask Fingon, but then I will have to ask Maedhros along. Perhaps I should ask Maedhros' younger brothers Curufin and Celegorm instead. Celegorm is a skilled hunter and woodsman and I doubt he is the type to jump into my bedroll because of a snake in his. If Curufin gets too mouthy, perhaps we can tie him to a tree.

* * *

_Undated_

Things needed for camping:

Bow and quiver of arrows

Hunting knives

Flint

Bedroll

Spare change of garments

Harp

Rope (lots of sturdy rope)

**Author's Notes: **

All things considered, Lord Ulmo thought Finrod needed more watching than Turgon. Hence the proximity to a river.

Not sure if this will pan out as written solely by Finrod and his successor Orodreth, or if I should insert excerpts from journals kept by other residents of the city. After all, Finrod wouldn't be around for the debacle inspired by Turin.


	2. Gildor

After some consideration, I have decided to backtrack on the timeline and introduce the views of other elves of Nargothrond.

**Gildor**

Year 102

Glad to finally meet my Ada, though we look nothing alike. Ended up with new Noldorin name Gildor Inglorion. Some awkwardness finding out King Finrod has no idea who my Nana is. Promptly found myself assisting as his liaison with Dwarven allies though. Ugh, they are not lovely to look at although methinks those beards must keep them warm and toasty in their caves. Not sure what to make of this Amarie lady Edrahil the valet claims is Finrod's betrothed who stayed behind in Valinor. I mean, Ada did stick a life-size statue of her in his study, but everyone knows that is his private sanctum, more so than his bedchamber. I am welcome to borrow his scrolls on Dwarvish language and customs, though Edrahil helpfully showed me the secret stash of artbooks hidden behind them and offered to hook me up with some obliging lady. I declined the offer as it will never work out. I tried it before in Doriath with disastrous results and to my Nana's disappointment. Edrahil then asked if I preferred males and offered to link me up with a discreet partner, who is not sharing or has not shared my Ada's bed. I think I will like it here in Nargothrond, even if it is a bit damp. I wonder if I will ever be as attractive as my Ada. He just oozes sex appeal, even when he is just eating grapes across the table from me. Is this something with blond Noldor? Now I need a cold bath…

* * *

Year 116

Asked Edrahil if Ada will like it if we fashioned a doll for him in the likeness of his betrothed for his bed to cheer him up seeing he has been moping around lately. I have seen Daeron cuddling up with one such doll (a very poor likeness of Luthien), before the lady had it cast on a midsummer bonfire and had her mother slap a keep-away-from-my daughter spell on him for several years. Luthien relented eventually as there was no better musician in the realm than Daeron. Warned not to push my luck as I was the first of his so-called children who managed to keep relationships with the Dwarves cordial without triggering some farce that will result in me being packed off to Lord Cirdan's for reasons of my personal safety. Moreover, His Majesty was not pining for his betrothed but some cousin who has since disappeared into the mountains. I'm sorry, did we just lose a relative to some mountain troll? Also, how many half-siblings do I have?

* * *

Year 150

Ada sends me out on trips alone now that he has to stay in Nargothrond to run the place. Not that I miss the 'creeping about the tents in the dark to some hot elf's bedroll for a tryst without waking Ada' part of the journeys. I still get nightmares about the time he intercepted one such tryst by stumbling into the wrong tent, singing 'Elves up a Tree' and fresh from the river sans clothes. He has quite a body, but still, he is my nominal father. I should not be thinking such thoughts about my Ada.

I fear Ada might be getting restless about the whole thing. Mapped quite a bit of the land while maintaining ties with various realms. The Feanorions aren't as scary as they are made out to be, except Mad Maedhros, who is highly unpredictable at the best of times and downright psychotic at others. Tried venturing into the mountains to the north but kept getting chased off by angry birds. Methinks the Great Eagles have a nesting ground there.

I am not overly fond of the Eagles though Ada seems to have an arrangement with them for letters and the like. There is a large dead tree near the entrance to the city where the Eagles could drop off any important letters from Gondolin (the other hidden Noldor city) and pick up any royal mail. The folks in Gondolin take 'hidden' to a new level with their no-visitors rule and everyone who goes there has to stay in the city for life. Ada has been trying to cadge an invite from his cousin Turgon to no avail. I doubt posting him erotic poetry and art will soften his attitude. Hopefully, Ada will give up on that invite and we can go on a hunt with that blond Feanorion and his shadow.

* * *

_Undated_

Scary things to me:

Mad Maedhros

Angry eagles

Orcs and the like

Dwarvish custom of knife-tossing

Ada walking in on me and Celegorm the Fair snogging

**Author's Notes: **

We know what those angry birds are guarding.

I am leaving up to the readers to guess how many of Finrod's so-called offspring are actually his. It is a running gag in my other parody fic about Finrod having too many kids and no way (or interest) in keeping track of them.


	3. Edrahil

A look at our ever-loyal and long-suffering aide to a king.

**Edrahil**

Year 102

The Valar must hate us, period. Just when my liege got his tower all ready, Lord Ulmo sends him to a cave system to go Dwarf. Minas Tirith was such a nice sturdy tower, with views of the Sirion to die for. Apparently, being located on an island in the middle of a river is not good enough for the Vala. Something about hidden. Surely that does not mean we elves have to go Dwarf. I hope Lord Orodreth likes his new digs, Finrod Felagund's wedding gift to him and his lady. Wished I could stay behind but Orodreth has his own household servants and I need to make sure my liege does not go fully native. Oh, the horror.

Then some youngling pops up, claiming like the other dozen or so that he is of my lord's get. At least this one might just work out as potential heir material. He has some brains, unlike those empty-headed nitwits dumped on our doorstep previously. Too bad about that entire born out of wedlock part, and the unlikelihood of grandchildren from Gildor. I think he might work out with some help. Plus, as his son by blood, it is unlikely Finrod will try talking him between his covers.

* * *

Year 116

Gildor Inglorion is without a doubt Finrod Felagund's get. Period. So far like his sire, he has managed to scandalize the city at least once a week with his dalliances. Let us be reminded that the communal baths are communal and no one needs to know what you get up to with some strapping stable-hand in the tack-room. Then there was the time he walked in with an awkward complaint to the healer's, just a month after his sire sought treatment for a similar injury to the nether regions.

At least he inherited his sire's diplomatic tact or picked it up from Finrod, being the only envoy to survive both the Feanorions and the Dwarves in the long run. Mad Maedhros stopped throwing spears at him by his third visit to Himring and the Dwarves were calling him a beardless brother by his second visit to their halls. Other envoys would have made a beeline for Balar long ago. I hope he did not literally offer his ass to the lot. Must keep an eye on Gildor to ensure he does not forget his Elvish ways.

* * *

Year 150

My liege going on a camping trip with Celegorm and his little brother. What can possibly go wrong?

In a word – Everything.

I will not put it past that pair to arrange some horrific accident and we will be thankful if we get enough of Finrod Felagund back for a funeral. I will need to talk Gildor out of joining that trip. And did Lord Guilin and his guild have a formal dinner appointment with Finrod this week? It is hell managing his schedule when my liege is liable to ride off at a moment's notice. Must also drop a message to the captain of the guard that his poker night will be off. Perhaps Gildor can cover for the dinner instead.

My lord's schedule (Undated), things to possibly reschedule

Orgilion – Forge inspection, pep talk to new Marchwarden recruits, open new city garden

Oranor – Visit by Orodreth's envoys, report from Gildor on visit to Feanorions, open audience with residents

Orithil – Inspect new city vineyard, planned visit from Maglor (hopefully orcs get him first), poker night

Orgaladhad – Appointment with tailor for new robes, tea with Nargothrond Horticulture Guild

Ormenel – Visiting trade representative from the Longbeards, dinner with Lord Guilin and loremasters

Orbelain - Attend Thanksgiving prayers to the Valar, diplomatic dinner with envoys from Mithrim

Remind F. to postpone tailor's appointment, pep talk and poker night. There is no way Gildor has the gravitas needed for delivering the pep talk. Oh, and keep him away from Maglor Feanorion if that elf makes it to Nargothrond alive.

**Author's Notes: **

The listing of days in Finrod's schedule is based on the Eldarin 6-day week (Sindarin) as taken from Tolkien Gateway.

Edrahil really does not trust the Feanorions much, does he?


	4. Miscellany

I am at a loss as to what the folks of Nargothrond get up to between its founding and Finrod stumbling over the Secondborn in Year 310. Not sure hunting party hijinks and Dwarf jokes alone will make for a good read. So here goes…

**Miscellany **

Finrod (Undated)

The Wisdom of Eru (writings of the Valar, Vol. 8, Section 66) speak of the Secondborn. Are the Dwarves who are of Aule's creation to be counted as such? Or should we consider them the Adopted Children of Eru? They aren't lovely to look at, but Aule granted them hardiness in place of beauty and grace. They are as the donkey is to the deer and with its temper to boot. I must confess I am not adverse to pursuing friendships with my Dwarven brothers. Though the mortality part can be a pain. It can be awkward when I ride over to resume that game of chess from ten years back to find old Golin has gone to the House of His Fathers.

Really curious about the Secondborn, but I must stop talking to random critters in the wild. Found a talking willow tree once and had an interesting discourse on the nature of time, but Celegorm swore I was high on his moonshine. I could not recall how I ended up in the branches of that oak. That was about the same time Curufin ended up kissing a porcupine. Ouch.

* * *

Gildor (Undated)

I wish I can stop having a crush on my own father. This is so awkward. Tried hanging out with other blond-haired ellyn but it didn't work out. Tender and loving, Celegorm is definitely not. He simply will not stop ragging me about the king of Nargothrond. Seriously thinking of striking out for Balar. Then Edrahil starts pleading for me to stay so that he will not have to deal with the Dwarves. Dwarf-beer never agreed with him, and it is bad manners to turn down a stein from your host in the caves. I think the Dwarves actually fancy Finrod Felagund. Does he realize that the Nauglamir is the equivalent of a Dwarven courtship gift? Lifelong unions between males are accepted. Though I must admit, I have yet to understand the complexity of Dwarven society and relationships given that I heard their menfolk outnumber their females ridiculously, such that the dams prefer to pass themselves off as brothers. Another Dwarf-secret not to be bandied about.

* * *

Edrahil (Undated)

For the last time by Morgoth's balls, King Finrod does not have a Dwarf-husband/ wife or half-Dwarf kids. Seriously, the only one he wants to have an official child by is Amarie the Vanye, though I do wonder if that was an excuse to get away from Melian and Luthien's clutches. Poor Galadriel took one for the Noldor there getting hitched to that milk-sop Sinda Celeborn. There were other eligible ellyn of high rank about Thingol's court, so why that one? I recall Turgon's followers Ecthelion and Glorfindel were mightily pissed and we have the classic ballad of _the Swan and the Gander._

And Feanorions make lousy houseguests. Huan left a chewed-up hare carcass under the guestroom bed on his master's last visit. Curufin drives everyone to distraction in the forges with his criticism. The twins drive everyone else crazy with their pranks. Mad Maedhros is always one step away from a Kinslaying. Caranthir picks a fight with anyone within earshot. I should be thankful that other than Celegorm and Curufin, the others are rare visitors to Nargothrond.

Maglor is the only Feanorion the servants like as he keeps his room in the same condition it was in when he arrives as much as possible – no smashed furniture, clawed-up walls and weird stains on stuff. Plus, he always gives a public recital in the Gardens for everyone to enjoy when he does visit. He has been popularizing that naughty little ballad by Ecthelion and Glorfindel, much to the chagrin of Finrod's sister the last time their visits coincided.

**Author's Notes: **

This is getting really idiotic. I am serious about that statement. Somehow it is harder to write for Nargothrond than Gondolin as no one is really trying to keep up appearances as in Turgon's city.


	5. Finrod 2

Enter the Secondborn? Finrod has a very curious mind. I think this will be a rather boring commentary on Eldar-Edain relations.

**Finrod**

_Year 310_

I found them – Balan and his tribe. Understand there are other tribes of Man in the east who have yet made the move into Beleriand. Cannot wait to meet them all. Celegorm asked if I will be collecting trophies in the form of hides or heads in commemoration of the event. Don't be silly. You don't skin your friends, do you? It kinda ends the conversation prematurely. Of course, I dared not ask Celegorm if he has carried out any intellectual discussions with the stag he hunts for dinner. I mean – 'Say, mate, will you go better with a basil-lemon mix or a pepper rub?'

For starters, I will have to convince my new friend to change his name, given that 'Balan' is also the name used by the Sindar to refer to the Valar. Will not want Lord Ulmo to throw some hissy fit. I suppose I can suggest it to him the next time I drop by his campfire. Curufin is suggesting that I may want to have a frame set up in my study for displaying the heads of my prizes, just like the one Lord Oropher has for his petty-dwarf trophy collection. You Feanorion savages…

* * *

_Year 311_

Convinced Beor to change his name. Got myself another name – Nom the Wise. Need Gildor to help keep track of the names I have been collecting. Had a very interesting discussion last night in the communal baths about the physical attributes of the Secondborn male versus that of the Eldar. Beor is a fine specimen. Failed to convince him to bring his wife along to the baths for a comparison of the females of our races. Not really that keen on tying myself in marriage to any of the tribe's daughters but we may infer that their womenfolk are similar to us in the physical aspect (apart from the ears and this aging thing). Set one of our midwives to chat with Beor's married kinswomen to glean more knowledge on the reproductive side of things. I doubt they lay eggs like birds.

* * *

_Year 312_

Received complaints from our Nandor allies about the influx of Secondborn into their forests. Helpfully redirected the newcomers to Caranthir's neck of the woods. I am sure my dear cousin will not mind waking up to find new neighbours settled on his lawn. Or he might take a leaf from Oropher and indulge in a hunt. Perhaps I better inform the other Noldor about these Secondborn Children of Eru. Uncle's scholars (those who survived the Grinding Ice) are still debating on the status of the Dwarves as Children of Aule or Adopted Children of Eru. Yet they run for the door whenever I have them in the communal baths and I invite a Dwarf to join us in the soak. I doubt body-hair is contagious. Perhaps the next time they are here, I should invite Beor and his boys to join us in the tub. I bet any one of Beor's people are in better shape than those scholars. Perhaps I should direct the next lot of Secondborn to Fingon's place, as a little thank-you for seeing off that dragon back in Year 260. They could do with some additional warriors.

* * *

_Year 355_

I miss Beor. He is a good friend – witty and amusing to the end. Dying at 94 from old age seems a bit premature, but his kin reassure me it is a ripe age for the Edain. His sons and grandsons, unfortunately, are not as amusing as him. Perhaps I should start extending invites to Curufin again, just for his interesting bedtime conversations. Or perhaps Maglor… He does have talented hands and a good full-body massage will not go awry. Beor was losing his touch with age.

* * *

_Year 379_

I do not understand what Aegnor was thinking. Seriously. How did a routine patrol end up with you snuggling up with your host's niece under the stars? The last thing I need is Boromir (Beor's descendant) popping up on my doorstep for marriage negotiations over Aegnor and his daughter Andreth. Must have a stern talking-to with my little brother. I believe having half-elven children running about might just irk the Valar, not to mention irreparably sour the ties between our races. Not sure what Eru will make of it though. Somehow, I sense this will all end with Beleriand under the waves.

Caranthir narrowly dodged one potential romantic entanglement with Haleth of the Haladin. Showing up to save the day after her father and brother were killed by orcs did not go down well. I always said Caranthir has no sense of timing, but seven days late to a battle must be a new record. I heard from Gildor there were angry words exchanged and a slap before the lady took her people elsewhere. There goes Caranthir's chance at fostering a Mannish alliance. Better luck next time.

**Author's Notes:**

Finrod seems to coming up with excuses to get everyone into his baths and his bed. And boy, is he mistaken about Eru's plans for half-elves.


	6. Gildor 2

Others in Finrod's household not exactly thrilled by the Secondborn at first glance. Perhaps Beor might convince them to change their views. I am throwing in some poetry (haiku of course)

**Gildor**

_Year 311_

Ada brought home a guest with less hair than a Dwarf but more than an elf. Weird. I thought it was some kind of cross between a Dwarf and an Elf. Not sure of any of our ellyth have a fondness for copious amounts of body hair. Dare not ask. Introduced as Beor. Feeling jealous Ada is ignoring me in favour of his new friend, Secondborn or not. Have not received any summons to report on latest news from outside. Poker night also called off (much to Edrahil's relief, methinks).

I suppose if he is mortal, he will grow old, fat and wrinkly like an old Dwarf and Ada will stop finding him such a novelty. I wonder how long that will take.

Accidents that can befall Beor:

Breaks neck falling from tree.

Drowns falling into the Narog.

Crushed in rockfall (I need to check on ongoing construction in caves).

* * *

_Year 316_

Ugh! These Secondborn are everywhere. Even at the High King's court. Well, it is not all bad. Found some rather comely specimens there. Very obliging too. We spent a very enjoyable afternoon in the guardroom before one of their uncles interrupted our fun. It is only a pity that their looks will not last. Facial hair is something I never found attractive. I do wonder if I could convince the Hadorians to start shaving like some of the other Men I chanced upon. Perhaps I was a little hasty in judging Beor. Ada seems to enjoy his company and kept praising his skillful hands.

Took up Ada's recommendation to have him visit my bedchamber. Never been so pummeled, stretched, and manhandled in my entire life. But it did work out the kinks and knots in my muscles. Beor did inform me that I could keep my loincloth on at the next session. Talk about embarrassing. I do wish Ada will be clearer what he meant by Beor offering him much bodily relief. Chatty like a magpie too, though I could barely understand his tongue and his Quenya is basic.

I do wonder who Ada has in his bed now that we know Beor is not warming it. Or dare we hope that he has finally gone celibate?

* * *

_Year 355_

Edrahil collected on that little bet we made last fall when Beor the Old finally took the Path of Men to regions unknown. I was hoping he will make a full yeni at least. He was fluent in Quenya, until he started losing his teeth and developed an odd lisp. Tried teaching his son Belen the techniques of massage but the lad was a clumsy oaf. Poor Edrahil ended up with pulled tendons. Instead, he educated some of the healers in the city. Kept complaining of pains in his joints not even a skilled masseur could ease and we do believe he was nearly blind towards the end. Ada had to guide him to and from the healing wards.

It was barely a week before Beor was laid in the earth that I have the honour of escorting a pair of Feanorions to the private chambers of my liege. Celegorm promised that if it was a pummeling Finrod needed, it was a pummeling he will get. I believe he has the strength to deliver on his promise but I doubt his finesse. Curufin was holding some rope that I was persuaded to let him keep (thanks to that wicked knife Celegorm was pointing at my throat). I hope we will not regret this in the morning.

* * *

_Year 380_

Once more I end up with a job that makes me feel like fleeing for Balar. Keep an eye on Lord Aegnor. The prince has a temper on him and I know he will not appreciate being spied on when with his lady-love. He does realise she will be grey, wrinkled, and toothless in less than a yeni right? Then she will die and go beyond where the Eldar can venture. I wonder if Ada has enlightened him on that inconvenient fact.

I do wish the prince will either end his fling or wed her properly. This is so awkward…

Perhaps I should while the time away by writing poetry:

_Fire burning bright_

_Fleeting passion too soon past_

_Grey ashes in hearth_

Or perhaps this will be better:

_Fair maid under stars_

_Summer kisses fast fading_

_Golden prince alone_

**Author's Notes:**

Happy New Year. Hopefully this will be a better year for all.

Gildor's poems are a hint of his feelings about the entire Aegnor-Andreth relationship.


	7. Hateful Things

Hateful things – a short chapter just to keep in with the Pillowbook theme. Then we move onto the Battle of the Sudden Flame.

Finrod is not going to comment on Aredhel's escape from Gondolin or her subsequent return even if he was informed. Far as he is concerned, she is entitled to flee Gondolin in the first place.

**Hateful Things**

Finrod

My hateful things (undated)

Sister visiting with milksop Sinda hubby

Morgoth and his minions

Rainy days

Pea-soup

Pea-soup with ham

Pea-soup with ham cooked by Edrahil

That silly question about me marrying. Why does everyone keep asking me when I will marry? Amarie is over the Sea, thank you. So probably no time soon.

Unreasonably intelligent lady I seem to be developing a crush on but cannot pursue because she and my baby brother have an 'understanding'. Must concentrate on keeping interactions purely intellectual. Does she know?

* * *

Edrahil

Hateful things (undated)

My liege's bright ideas. Who can forget that 'Let's all follow Uncle Nolo over the ice' incident?

Feanorions anywhere near my liege (including that pup Tyelpe)

Morgoth and company

Anything of the canine persuasion. Especially if it is the size of a horse, needs to be fed bloody offal daily, and slobbers over you as a way of a thank-you.

Leaky roofs

Listening to Gildor's latest heartbreak woes

Bats (ugh!)

Laundry day in winter when the boiler breaks down. Do you have any idea how cold the river can get? Also, where can you find discreet laundresses to wash your sheets after poker night?

* * *

Gildor

Things I seriously do not like (undated):

Naneth pestering me to find a nice elleth to settle down with and produce elflings.

Watching my Ada (maybe) carrying on with half the population in Nargothrond and possibly half the non-orc population in Beleriand as well.

Big angry birds. You Eagles can keep your stinking mountain range.

Whoever is in charge at Angband. What's-his-name?

Edrahil's mushy pea-soup. The last time I checked _Traditional Noldor Recipes_, the soup should not growl back at you.

Getting caught by Lord Aegnor spying on him and his lady.

Broken jaw thanks to Lord Aegnor's fist (and having Edrahil assigned to cook his mushy pea-soup for me until I heal)

**Author's Notes: **

Sorry if I suggested Edrahil's a horrid cook but the list may not be in running order. Based on the items, the lists should have been compiled during the Aegnor-Andreth years.


	8. Reflections in the Aftermath of Battle

It's time for the Battle of the Sudden Flame. Things get real hot for everyone. This will be a long chpater given all the major changes happening in Nargothrond and Beleriand as a whole.

**Reflections in the Aftermath of Battle**

Finrod

Year 455

My brothers are gone. My annoying, hot-tempered, reckless little brothers are gone. At least I do not have to break the news of Aegnor's passing to Andreth – she having inexplicably keeled over (well, I suppose at 94, mortal hearts get a tad dodgy) upon receiving news Morgoth has finally broken the Siege, so her great grand-niece says. Fine, I can be reckless too. Narrowly escaped a messy end myself thanks to the line of Beor. I do hope they do not actually collect on whatever favour I promised them while groggy from an axe-blow to the helmet. Edrahil's been yelling at me about some Oath of Friendship (did I actually take a leaf from Uncle Feanor's book on how to tick off the Valar?) I apparently swore to the House of Beor.

I imagine Galadriel must be so pleased our nephew and his household rolled up on my doorstep instead of hers. I don't suppose those spiked bear-traps at the edge of the Gridle of Melian had something to do with that. She could never abide Orodreth's company. I recall the time in Valinor when she dangled him out a tall window by his heels.

I also seem to have lost a week of my life, during which I seem to have named dear Orodreth as my official heir-apparent and extended an invitation to my Feanorion cousins to take up residence in Nargothrond. It could have easily gone the other way and maybe Celegorm and Curufin would have committed a spot of kinslaying over who exactly is the future king of Nargothrond. Must remind Edrahil never to allow me to call Council when I am still suffering from the aftereffects of a blow to the head.

I do wonder where Atto's ring went. Gildor claims I handed it over to some Barahir guy, which I definitely do not recall having met. Head hurts, better stop.

* * *

Orodreth

Year 455

Me. Heir-apparent to Uncle Finrod. And after I lost his fancy tower too. I feel bad about that, and Ada and Uncle Aegnor getting burned by a dragon, and granduncle Nolo… Wait, who's the High King now? Cousin Fingon? I suppose I better find a suitable fiancé for my little girl quickly before those lords start getting funny ideas about her. The lad she was speaking to by the pools this morning looked an honest sort. He'd do, I suppose. Better than her hanging about Curufin's brat.

Wait, what is this news from Cirdan that my boy has arrived in Balar safely? Do I really have a son out there or do old elves go senile too? I better ask my wife. Surely she will know if we had a son.

* * *

Gildor

Year 455

I suppose things could have been worse. We could have had all 7 sons of Feanor under our roof. I do not mind Tyelpe much. He is a decent sort, unlike his uncle and father. I could put up with Huan. I suppose Ada will have to call off poker night with those two about. I wonder if since I am not officially Ada's heir-apparent, I can move to Balar on a permanent basis. Island living might suit me better. I do not wish to be on the receiving end of Celegorm's cruel little games, mostly involving his little brother's toys. That finger trap thing almost cost me a finger. Then there was that noose thing… I can appreciate a bit of rough-and-tumble but I have my limits and I will like my partner to respect them. I do not see how stinging nettles rubbed on your sensitive bits are supposed to improve your love-life. I really prefer Maglor's company so much more. Too bad we heard he shacked up at Himring with Mad Maedros after losing his Gap.

* * *

Edrahil

Year 455

I know letting refugees into Nargothrond is a noble deed, but have a care who exactly you let in, milord. I am, of course, referring to a certain pair of Feanorions. Why couldn't we have gotten ourselves Maglor the bard instead? Then there was that stunt you pulled with your nephew. Apologies, but what hope do we have with Orodreth? If he could lose your tower fortress Minas Tirith, I doubt he can hold Nargothrond for long. Even his little girl seems brighter than him. Gildor is so ticked off, I had to talk him out of packing his bags for Balar. I doubt the lad will be remaining long though. Out of your so-called offspring, he was the one with the most diplomatic promise.

Also there is that awkward question of Barahir and his people, It is a lucky thing they took off elsewhere instead of moving to our city. I recall Beor mentioning the damp in our lower caves can wreak havoc with mortal bones. I must be thankful the Dwarves have their own caves to retreat to and will not be imposing on our hospitality. I am sure when His Majesty allowed his cousin the use of our forges, it doesn't mean evict everyone else out of their workshops. Then there's that dumb blond buffoon clamouring to be let out so he can bring home an orc or two.

* * *

Celegorm

Year 455

A month in a cave. A full month in a stinking cave. I need the open air. I want to feel the sun on my skin and the wind in my hair. Why did I let Curufin talk us into coming here instead of to Himring? Huan has made like a bear in winter and gone to sleep under the bed. Let sleeping dogs lie. He almost took my foot off the last time I accidentally stepped on him.

Must vent. Dumb bootlicking valet refused to let me out into the woods to hunt, citing orcs in the area. Refused to let me out even if I offered to kill those pesky orcs on sight. Refused even when I offered to bring a live one home for him to sharpen his knives on. Dumped him in the nearest cesspit.

Going stir-crazy. Must vent. Cousin Finrod has Council for the next three hours? Perhaps that cute page Gildor might be up for some fun and games in the meanwhile. I will really enjoy roughing him up a lot. Must remember to gag him real good as he's a real screamer, like Finrod. Sound does tend to echo in this city.

* * *

Curufin

Year 455

Must be strong for Tyelpe. I did promise Her I will take care of him. Cannot. Must not cry. Must work. Best way to deal with it. Must work. Must get rid of all worthless clutter and dead weight Finrod has accumulated in his forges. The fool. That includes those clumsy smiths loitering about.

Must remind Celegorm to rein in his foul temper. Beating some random servant-elf black and blue will not endear us to our soft-hearted cousin. I will have to coax Finrod to give him a free pass in and out of the city. Maybe we can use walking Huan to our advantage and threaten him with finding doggy poo in his royal bed.

Come to think of it, Finrod has rather fancy digs. Too bad they are all going to that dullard Orodreth. Perhaps with a bit of work, we might swing things in our favour. Somehow the lords managed to get a majority vote against us joining the Council, so pushover Finrod claims. As king, he should be able to overrule them. Perhaps a sword might convince him, or a fancy necklace might work better.

Must plan, must think of future – and how to wrest those Silmarils from you-know-who.

* * *

Celebrimbor

Year 455

Nana, I miss you bad. If you are watching from Mandos, I am sad to announce both Uncle Celegorm (whom you detest) and Ada are slipping off the deep end. Celegorm is letting the beast-side of his nature out in a huge way. Had to rush poor Gildor to the healers this morning, along with a bribe for them not to rat on us so we all get tossed out into the snow on our butts. The good news is that after two weeks of bedrest and healing, Gildor should be up to making plans for winter-travel to Balar for his continued good health. Ada accompanies him when he is calling on King Finrod, just to avoid a regicide. Do not see what Finrod Felagund sees in them.

I am sincerely believe they are up to no good. It's like that weird tingle I got when that Avari loser was kicked out by Ada… I have this odd feeling things will come crashing down around our pointy ears really soon, and not just from having lost our home of Himlad.

* * *

Finduilas

Year 456

What a year. Nana has left Ada and Nargothrond for good. Something about him asking her if I had a brother and she accusing him of cheating on her. Ada is an idiot. What makes him think that Nana has a son out there she is not even aware of? I doubt he has been cheating on her. He's too dull for that. According to Uncle Finrod, Ada was quite alright before that horse kicked him in the head, so I need not worry about my offspring.

Oh somehow, I am now betrothed to Gwindor, and we only spoke once or twice. I think it must be his father's idea. I never liked Lord Guilin, or his wife. Gwindor apologized about it. He did feel it is too soon for a betrothal himself, his brother having died so recently… but his parents and my dear Adar insisted. Then they had Uncle Finrod announce it at Council and before the entire population, so we can't really back out now. Gwindor is rather sweet, and easy on the eyes. I think I could even grow to love him over time.

* * *

Gwindor

Year 456

What was His Majesty and Prince Orodreth thinking? Finduilas is a real beauty but isn't she a tad young to be betrothed? Come on, I was prepared to wait for a few more years past her majority. Shouldn't we give poor Gelmir his due mourning? Maybe looking on from Mandos, he finds the sight of me being forced into a fancy silver robe and crowned with laurel leaves amusing. It was so embarrassing. And poor Finduilas had to go through the entire thing with me in her heavy golden dress with wildflowers in her hair.

I must start thinking of her as my future wife now, instead of a princess. Also, I must aspire to be deserving of her hand. I know half the lords present at our betrothal ceremony were wishing they could get away with a kinslaying of their own. Tyelpe warned me I better keep well clear of his uncle and father, lest I get trampled to death in the stables or peppered with arrows.

**Author's Notes: **

The Ring of Barahir and the attendant pledge of friendship is this fic is an almost accidental happening rather than an act of heroic or legendary status that it later achieves courtesy of Beren and Luthien. Too often history happens that way. A series of 'what-just-happened?' s.

Cirdan probably did not realize his letter has caused the breakup of one couple. More questions on Gil-galad's parentage in the making. Celegorm has caught a bad case of cabin fever, and Gildor is making plans to bail out lest he ends up killed during one of Celegorm's games.


	9. That Quest

It is time to bide farewell to Finrod and his loyal band. Nargothrond undergoes a whole load of unhappy circumstances that is just the start of more troubles to come.

All the snippets here are happening at the same time, possibly within a few days at most.

**That Quest**

Year 465

Finrod

I knew Ada's ring will return to bite me in the ass, well, not literally, but I suppose we all get the point. Barahir's son – fine, strapping lad – just rolled up on our doorstep seeking my aid. He's on some mad quest to win the approval of Uncle Thingol and wed his little girl. I can see the attraction for her. Nice, firm ass and muscular thighs. And those yummy abs… I can picture loads of naughty things I will like to do to Beren. Still, lad's way out of his league with Luthien. Well, why couldn't you lovebirds just keep it to secret trysts in the woods? If he's so keen on an elf-wife, I would have tossed fair Finduilas his way save she is already spoken for with Guilin's son. It will not do to evict him with all due discourtesy, like Curufin suggested.

I wonder if I can get him alone in the baths, or better my bed, without coming across as a pervert… Maybe I should broach the question after this quest as an excuse to educate him in bedroom matters before the wedding. I am sure Cousin Luthien would not mind sharing her Beren. Better put on a fine show to impress the lad and really bowl him over.

* * *

Edrahil

Argh! My liege's common sense just leapt into the river (as usual) when he clapped his eyes on a handsome face paired with a pert ass. Then those Feanorion pests had to start a near-revolt in Council. If it is a toss between babysitting regent Orodreth, keeping him away from Feanorion knives and venturing on some dangerous quest, I think I have much better chances with King Finrod. I mean, he does have some real powerful Songs at his disposal. Orodreth will just have to shift for himself. Perhaps Tyelpe can rein in his father and uncle.

Still, I do wish more brave elves came forward to support our liege in his mad quest.

* * *

Celegorm

You little sniveling thief! The Silmarils belong to my Atto! I will gut you like a catfish! I will feed your liver to the wolves! Why can't we just drown that Secondborn whelp in the river already? Snotty Thingol and his bitch-daughter can go to Angband for all we care!

Finrod, you traitor! How dare you? You cowardly, stinking king-in-a-hole. What about those fancy words you were spouting as we bounce your sweet ass about your royal bed, huh? I bet it will cause quite a scandal if your fancy lords know all the naughty games you get up to behind closed doors…

* * *

Curufin

Morgoth's balls! This is bad. I had to hold my brother off from throttling Finrod's guest before the entire Council. Next, our dear drama-queen cousin then threw a huge hissy fit and chucked his crown on the floor. That's 99.99 percent gold, moron! You'll dent it beyond even my repair! Our local village idiot gets named regent by default by the Council (hello folks, you have two examples of a certified genius' bloodline standing before you), just to allow time for Finrod's temper to cool down on that journey. Hopefully, he comes to his senses soon and leaves his pet mortal to the wolves. I am not too particular about whether anyone gets well screwed over en route. On the other hand, if he ends up hanging up on the walls of Angband as Morgoth's latest trophy… Well, well, there are some possibilities there… Orodreth is a real pushover…

Oi, Huan just piddled on my new boots. Bad dog!

* * *

Orodreth

Dear me, oh dear me… What am I to do with the crown? I have this feeling Celegorm and Curufin will kill me if something does happen to Uncle Finrod and I do become king. It was hard enough in Minas Tirith, even with my wife helping. How am I to run an entire city alone? Better let the steward hold on to it for now…

What, I must decide on this matter on Uncle Finrod's behalf now? I don't know anything about when to start planting potatoes or carrots! What in Mandos is asparagus? What if I get it wrong and Uncle gets mad at me for messing up?

* * *

Celebrimbor

Ai Valar! Everything just went to Mandos in a handbasket with the arrival of one scruffy mortal bearing a ring he inherited from his father. Nice Valinorean metalwork, I must admit. Could this be that infamous token of friendship Finrod gave some mortal chieftain? Our noble kinsman then decided his oath of friendship justifies a suicide mission…

Despite Ada's best efforts to dissuade everyone, ten poor fools (including Edrahil) volunteered thanks to the charisma of our kinsman. I almost volunteered too, but Uncle ordered Huan to sit on me, literally, until the band was well clear of Nargothrond. I am going out and as far as I can get from the throne room in the city. I want no part of this…

* * *

Gwindor

Returned from a routine border patrol to find the city in chaos. Our wise king has done a bunk and taken off with some scruffy specimen of the Secondborn. Must seriously have some looks on him (for a Man) to convince Finrod to drop his kingly duties without notice. Really wish he and his staff could have planned his vacation more considerately. Acting regent Orodreth being badgered by the Council to a near-meltdown. Hope sweet Finduilas Faelivrin is holding up well.

Met Tyelpe in the guardhouse. He reassured me that his father and uncle will step in to restore order until the regent feels better, but his tone was far from reassuring. He also added that they would not want the city falling to pieces just yet. I suspect I just missed a Feanorion coup and sincerely hope our king Finrod is alright. Better find my darling Faelivrin and lay low for a bit…

* * *

Finduilas

Darn, I was hoping to get that special book from Uncle Finrod before he left about fun things an ellon and an elleth can get up to with each other without causing elflings. He did suggest that we could do some exploring of our relationship even before the wedding. We can't ask Ada about that stuff now, can we?

Too bad Uncle was so irked by the Feanorions he took off in a huff. I wonder if he will mind us sneaking into his bedroom to have a look whether he left it on the nightstand. He did promise it to us after all. What was that title again? _The Kama Sutra_ or _A Guide to the Joys of Sex_? Am I being too forward? I mean, Gwindor took forever to make my little pet name Faelivrin public. And he still refuses to let me call him Snookie-doodums when we are outside…

**Author's Notes: **

Loads of foreboding in the works. Being stuck in a dungeon with Beren is definitely not what Finrod had in mind for fun. I think Luthien will seriously object to Finrod putting his grubby paws on her man, don't you?

Am I moving things along too fast?


	10. Luthien

Luthien – and the end of the Feanorions in Nargothrond. I know Huan is a dog and likely cannot write a journal, but let's just suppose he does.

**Luthien **

Year 465

Huan

Happy things: My beautiful boy, pretty Maia-lady, my boy's brother-son, my boy's chewy boots, stinky things from kitchen, games of tag, hunting trips, swimming in river

Hateful things: Baths, cats, wolves (poor excuses for good hounds), werewolves (worse), rabies, my boy's catty brother, who is likely half-rabid and comes up with really bad ideas. Oh, did I forget orcs and minions of Shadow?

* * *

Celegorm

Never met such a vision of beauty… Makes me almost dizzy looking at her. Snotty Thingol's daughter… Not sure being his law-son will be a good thing though. Wish Curufin will just stop his yapping about marriage alliances and using other big words. He's right about keeping her out of Orodreth's sight. I can just imagine that moron regent drooling over her like Huan over a fresh rabbit. Where can I get flowers in this season? Will she like flowery poetry instead?

Beautiful maiden

Alabaster snow skin…

Who am I kidding, I never had a head for poetry… That's Maglor's thing. Maybe I should hop over to the kitchen to fetch her some victuals.

* * *

Curufin

My elder brother is drooling over our guest like some pimply Mannish whelp. Seriously? Hand-peeled grapes, Turko? You never even bothered to help Tyelpe land his first trout. Fish almost took my lad out to sea on his line.

I have big plans for Thingol's little princess. If she was interested in Beren, she might go for the muscular, scruffy types - my elder brother happens to fit that bill. She's fair enough, but I sure don't want a Maia as my law-mother. Wouldn't want Orodreth and the Council crashing our party. At least not until Turko is wed to the princess. Then Orodreth can go fly a kite.

* * *

Celebrimbor

Just ran into Uncle coming out of the kitchens with a bottle of wine, a platter of fancy cheeses, and peeled grapes. Seriously? The only thing missing are the candles and roses. Not sure if I even want to know which maiden has captured my Uncle's fey heart.

Seeing my Ada slinking about outside their shared rooms earlier does not inspire confidence either. Not since Huan could be heard whining behind the door. Ada normally puts Huan out if Uncle is out of the rooms. He does hate dog hair all over his clothes. I asked Ada if I could borrow the fancy measuring tape he keeps in his room, he told me 'no' and shoos me off to the forge. Did I just smell ladies' perfume coming from their room? I think I will hang out with Gwindor for a bit until my Ada and Uncle stop acting so weird.

Has anyone seen Huan? He's not at his usual place in the hall…

**Author's Notes: **

Regent Orodreth has no idea what the Feanorions are up to. Tyelpe suspects something's up but doesn't want anything to do with it.


	11. The King is Dead, Long Live the King

The balance of power shifts in Nargothrond with news of Finrod Felagund's heroic demise.

**The King is Dead, Long Live the King**

Year 465

Orodreth

Uncle Finrod is dead. I am officially king of the hidden city of Nargothrond. Finduilas (dear child) promised to hold my hand if I get nervous during the coronation. At least we got rid of those Feanorions and their bad luck. I suppose Tyelpe will fill in his father's duties in the local forge, or we can pack him off to Cirdan's like the Council suggested. Not sure I like the new regal robes I need to wear now, though. They are so heavy and itchy, now I understand why Uncle sometimes tore them off to his undershirt once the formal part of Council's over.

* * *

Finduilas

Poor Uncle Finrod. And we didn't even get a chance to give him a proper Noldor send-off on a funeral pyre. I suppose I better start planning my wedding and revamping my entire wardrobe before then. Being the king's grand-niece is one thing, but being the King's daughter is another level entirely. I do wish it was not protocol to have a dozen silly handmaidens trailing after me – it really puts a damper on my meetings with my fiancé. Plus they are distracting him with their idle chatter. I know he is just trying to be polite but still, I don't need to hear how pretty you find some other elleth's new dress, or walk someone else home. Perhaps I should raise his ire a wee bit by calling on Tyelpe in the forge… I do wonder if he needs cheering up after disowning his father.

* * *

Celebrimbor

I doubt the Council will tolerate having me about much longer, even if I did cut off all ties with my father and uncles. I suppose it will be best for me to seek sanctuary elsewhere. I am not calling on my Uncle Caranthir. I bet my ada and uncle Celegorm are there as his guests. Not too certain the Dwarves will accept me as a long-term guest. And I will probably keep banging my head on their ceilings. I don't even speak the same language as the Avari and Elu Thingol probably hates my Noldor guts. The seaside sounds tempting, unless Lord Osse is still offended about those Swan-ships and tries to drown me while I am enjoying a sunset stroll by the water. I suppose there are worse ways to go.

I owe Finrod an apology on my father and uncle's behalf. Thingol's daughter too, but she got Huan and her Man, so I guess that evens things out. I really will like to continue contributing to the prosperity of Nargothrond but I seem to be getting shockingly accident-prone in the forge. Leaky crucibles spewing hot metals, loose pulley-blocks falling around me.

Nearly dropped in on Lord Namo this morning when that mold I was using for casting shields just exploded. Thank the Valar for sturdily-made Dwarf-style forge aprons, safety boots, gloves, and face guards. One more such 'accident' and I am out of here for the sake of my good health and continued well-being.

* * *

Gwindor

Not too sure how this is going to affect our relationship now Finduilas is tentatively King's heir. My Atto's pushing for us to get the wedding over with but I think it will be disrespectful to our late King. Not too mention we need to rethink the entire ceremony and arrangements. Then there's all those fair (but brainless) maidens that keep fluttering about her like butterflies. We can't even get an intelligent conversation going without someone turning it into gossip fodder for the Council. I feel that Finduilas seems to be holding herself aloof now… Maybe I am not ranked highly enough to suit her. Is there any way I can get a promotion or something in this city? Maybe if I start training hard for the next battle…

* * *

Guilin

Trying to get my stubborn-to-goodness son to see sense and marry the princess before some other upstart noble tries to lay claim to her. I do rather fancy having a grandson in line for the throne after all. Then he has this crazy idea of risking it all by going on some risky mission… Thank goodness he is too late to go rescue our late king. I already lost one son to the Shadow. I do not intend to lose another. I better get him a place on King Orodreth's honour guard.

**Author's Notes: **

Have I missed out anyone from Nargothrond at this point?


	12. The Battle of Unnumbered Tears

Thanks to a certain incident involving a shiny gemstone, a pair of Feanorion brothers and a very dead Finrod Felagund, Nargothrond will only commit a small company to the Union of Maedhros. Who knew what manner of backstabbing happened in the gilded halls of Nargothrond?

**Battle of Unnumbered Tears **

_Year 472_

Orodreth

Not sure if it is the right thing to do but Lord what's-his-name insisted it would be proper for my future law-son to prove himself in battle before the actual wedding. Lord Guilin, being the lad's father vetoed the idea but was vetoed by everyone else. I think I am getting the hang of those complicated words like vote and veto. The lad seems rather keen on the suggestion – ah, must be that thing they call the foolhardiness of youth.

My little girl was not too happy about the idea though. She started screaming and threw her hairbrush at me when I told her Gwindor would be away for some time fighting with Maedhros and our other allies. It's not as though Gwindor will be going off to war alone. I sent the brightest and most capable elves of Nargothrond to fight alongside him – Lord Guilin helped me draw up a list of worthy warriors. Not that we have that many to start with I think, if we had to add Lord Whoever's stripling son to the company. I think Gwindor might have liked having his father along as an advisor, except that he broke his leg falling down a long stairway after Council. I do wonder what started that shoving match with Lord Whoever at the top of the stairs.

This kingship thing is all gloom and boredom. Uncle Finrod must have real gumption (another big word) to see it through. Must think of happy things.

Happy things:

Spinning tops

Munching on cherries

Nice warm bath after long session at Council

Planning my little girl's wedding (without my wife interfering)

* * *

Finduilas 

My Atto is an idiot. Curse the damned Council for getting my darling Snookums sent out into the dangerous world Outside. Morgoth take them all. I already get chills imagining him running into orcs when he is off on routine border patrol. Now we are talking an actual battle with thousands of orcs and maybe dragons and other nasty things thrown in for good measure. Also, I hear the entire thing is planned by a Feanorion. When did they ever come up with anything good? Cousin Tyelpe notwithstanding. I do like the hairpin he gave me as an early wedding gift before he left for Balar. Do I make like the fabled Vanyar in the tales of old and pray on my knees until he returns in glory? Or do I start tearing out my hair and weeping like some damsel in those mawkish Mannish ballads?

Tried to emulate the fabled warrior women of the Haladin but I couldn't find a smith willing to make me a functional suit of armour. I bet I would not have this problem with Cousin Tyelpe. My handmaidens are next to hopeless when I asked them if they knew any properly trained warriors around willing to give me a quick lesson or two. I suppose I just have to pray for my Gwindor's safe return. Does one petition Lord Tulkas for victory in battle or Lady Nienna for mercy? Or will it not work for all Noldor elves in Beleriand since the Valar cut us all off? I recall Uncle Finrod saying Lord Ulmo is a tad partial to us elves. Perhaps he might work if the battle's fought on water…

* * *

Gwindor

My comrade informed me it is a custom for some Mannish tribes not to see one's beloved before battle lest it weakens one's resolve by having their womenfolk turn all weepy on them. I doubt darling Faelivrin is the weepy type, but I better put my remaining time to better use seeing the sorry recruits who have volunteered for this mission.

Another elf suggested I leave a parting poem for her in case I don't make it back. What should it be about?

_Parting words linger_

_Across the battle-dust field_

_Hope springs eternal _

Ugh, that sounds so wrong and sappy. Maybe this will work:

_Your lovely face will_

_Be the light in my darkness_

_Even to Mandos_

That is even worse. Sounds like I am expecting to leave her a widow. I think I better see to my weapons.

**Author's Notes: **

This is not going to end well for everyone involved. I noticed a distinctive change in the tone of my writing without Finrod's hijinks. Now it is more soap opera-ish with some buffoonery from King Orodreth as comedic relief. I imagine the Haladin ladies as Amazons and possible ancestresses of the Riders of the Mark and Eowyn. The practice of writing parting/death-poems does have its roots in Japanese history and culture, even as late as WWII.


	13. Orodreth

Here is a little insight into our sorely misguided king of Nargothrond's parenting approach and kingship. Cue Finrod and other kings screaming from Mandos: "No, that's not the way to go about it!"

**Orodreth **

_Year 473_

My daughter now hates me and is no longer speaking to me. Not after Gwindor was reported killed in battle. His father Lord Guilin is also mad at me. He has resigned his seat on Council and moved to Balar, so I believe. Still have not gotten the hang of this kingship thing. Perhaps I should have written to His Majesty Fingon for pointers, city pride aside. A bit late for that now Cousin Fingon's dead and no one knows where his successor Turgon is at. I don't think I will write to him, even if I know where he is at. He looks so stern in the paintings Uncle Finrod had hanging in his bedroom, I do not think we ever met in Valinor, unlike Cousin Fingon. I remember playing horsie with him and climbing Cousin Nelyo's shoulders.

Should I write to Cousin Maedhros instead? But they say he has gone mad after being imprisoned by the Enemy. Also, it was his fault Gwindor got killed and my little girl's mad at me in the first place. Tried to cheer her up with new dresses and jewels, but she returned everything through her ladies. Should I get her another ellon to take her mind off Gwindor?

* * *

_Year 475_

Finduilas still not speaking to me. I have sent her all manner of ellyn from warriors to bards and none have caught her fancy. Well, her ladies seem to a appreciate their attentions and a fair number of them have since been bound in matri- marri, oh, got wedded. I doubt I will be seeing any grandchildren at the rate she is rejecting her suitors. Lords of the Council also losing patience and insist I order her to wed someone. That seems to be against the Laws of the Valar, right? Maybe my little girl doesn't like males. Darn, I was so looking forward to becoming a grandpa.

Possible ellyn to introduce to Finduilas:

Lord A's warrior son – all brawn and muscles. Not one for talking. Everyone else says he was dropped on his head as a baby.

Lord B's minstrel son – he claims his son is second in skill only to Maglor, but he sounds like a goose to me.

Lord C's brother - both warrior and bard, but everyone else swears he prefers males.

By the way, who is Lord A again?

Also, I do wonder if a Dwarf might do the trick? Understand that some ellyth like beards.

* * *

_Year 483_

My daughter finally spoke to me this morning, even if it was to ask me to get my foot off the hem of her dress. I did try writing to my wife some years back after we lost Gwindor (I heard she was in Falas) but did not receive any reply from her yet. I still wonder about whether I do have a son out there and if it will be proper to fetch him back so the Council will stop badgering me to have Finduilas wed off to produce an heir. Or can we find one of Uncle Finrod's many kids to fill in instead?

I keep getting weirdly vivid dreams about a bridge and a dragon. I think I should stop eating cheese and crackers before bedtime. Other options for bedtime snacks:

Hot chocolate

Warm milk and gingerbread

Spicy cornbread with chicken wings

Strawberry pudding with double cream topping

* * *

_Year 488_

Starting to think my Council members are only watching out for their own interests instead of this 'greater good' thing. Just found out using a dictionary what 'dullard' means. Perhaps I should ask Lord Cirdan to send someone new in from his place. Maybe we can exchange councillors or something. If Finduilas would deign to speak to me outside the usual morning greeting, I will be willing to put her on the Council, even if it will raise more than a few eyebrows. She'll be great with the widows and orphans' welfare. Still, I think I really need someone new to the city to be nominated to the Council.

Things to do:

Order more formal robes to be made

Gift Finduilas more jewels and dresses

Arrange party to try get Finduilas to meet someone (if she will attend)

Write to Cirdan over Council problems

Find someone who can fix the city's defence budget after the last accountant left

Do we still need funds for that tunnel reinforcement project?

**Author's Notes: **

Poor Orodreth hasn't a clue about politics, administration, and matters of the heart, does he? Also, we can assume his wife isn't on this side of the Sea anymore (or she would return to the city to knock some sense into her husband).


	14. Finduilas Faelivrin

Finduilas deals with her unexpected semi-widowhood. She is young for an elf and she hasn't really had the time and maturity to get to know and love Gwindor.

**Finduilas F****aelivrin**

_Year 473_

I am still mad at Atto about Gwindor and the fact that when I came with an urgent letter from my aunt in Falas, he had his guards turn me away at doors of the Council hall. It is true that I am sad Nana has passed into Mandos after falling out of a tree, but I see I cannot expect much by the way of sympathy from Atto. I pray that the Doomsman will look kindly on Nana. On hindsight, I think it may be for the best Nana's passing does not become common knowledge, lest I wind up with a stepmother like so many Avari elves are prone to. Also, nanny used to tell me elves fade after losing their spouses, but from what I observe with Atto, it doesn't really seem to have any effect on him. Feeling a bit of a fool sitting about waiting to fade like Luthien after they brought news of Gwindor's demise.

I suppose I should start mourning Gwindor all the same. Ugh, I suppose I should dress in sombre black like Mannish widows for three years and hide my hair under a veil. No fancy dresses or jewels. At least I do not need to shave my head like some tribes. I would prefer observing the Haladin version of honouring their dead but I am little pressed having to raise an army of skilled horsewomen to exact my vengeance. Where can I find that many horses in Nargothrond? I might be able to write to Uncle Maedhros, but they do say he is mad. Does Uncle Maglor have any more horsemen left?

Gwindor – you idiot. Why did you let them send you out to battle? Hearing of your valour from assorted warriors do not make up for not having you at my side.

* * *

_Year 475_

I think I am also so done with this entire mourning thing. Black was never my colour. Atto did not make it easy tossing gifts of gowns and trinkets my way. Now it is ellyn that pale immensely in comparison to my darling. Personally, I prefer the gowns and jewels. My ladies are welcome to the lot of them (the ellyn, I mean). I do wonder if my love for Gwindor could hold a candle against that of Luthien and her Man. It does not bode well that I did not fade like proper ellyth are said to do. Perhaps it has to do with the fact she is part-Maia and he is a Man. Haven't met many Secondborn about after that debacle with Uncle Finrod and Cousin Luthien's man. Wonder what she saw in him. Uncle Finrod's taste was always questionable, so no surprise he agreed so readily to that quest.

I do wonder what it will take to convince the Valar to return my sweetheart to me. I can't sing like Luthien before Mandos. Well, I tried singing once but Huan and Celegorm thought it was some creature in distress.

I do wonder if my ladies do have a point – I am young, and perhaps Gwindor was not the One for me as destined by Eru. I do hope my One is not that boorish A or that wimp C. Is it too much for an elleth to ask for a warrior one can hold a reasonable conversation with – just like my Gwindor? Easy on the eyes too.

* * *

_Year 483_

Atto ruined my new dress by stepping on the hem and ripping the skirt. Argh! I really feel like running off to Balar sometimes. Perhaps I can find Cousin Tyelpe there. Hopefully he will teach me how to smith as this sitting about acting pretty thing is really starting to wear thin. I am sick of calligraphy, music, embroidery and other so-called pastimes fit for a princess. I think I'd like to forge a shield or blade – you know, something that can be of use instead of tapestries with insipid words of praises to the Valar. I do wonder if the High King's daughter Idril has to deal with all this princess crap. Perhaps we should start a correspondence except we haven't a clue where our current High King's court is holed up at. Should I write to Aunt Galadriel instead? But Atto always claims she is scarier than a Balrog, so we better not risk it.

* * *

_Year 488_

I really think I should start re-considering my silent war with Atto. Perhaps he will allow me to choose an ellon of my choice instead of trying to get me wedded off to random nobles. Or maybe I should rebel by finding a handsome Man or Dwarf to start a friendship with. Failing which, I can look around for an Avari. Been reading up on Uncle Finrod's journals on his sojourns into the wilds and I must say the notion of dancing under the moon clad in nothing but wildflowers has some appeal to me. I do wonder how Uncle Finrod learnt about this secretive fertility rite to Ladies Yavanna and Vana conducted only by the maidens of an obscure Silvan tribe away from their menfolk? If it weren't for the wargs and orcs, I might be tempted to run off into the wilds myself.

Bucket list

Burn my formal gowns

Get an Avarin tattoo

Swim in the Narog

Dance under the moon naked

Start a scandalous liaison with a totally unsuitable person, Uncle Finrod-style

**Author's Notes: **

Turgon is the High King but no one outside Gondolin knows where he is at and how to reach him.

About Finrod and those Silvan maidens, let's just say he is too charming for his own good. And it is a fertility rite…


	15. The Stranger Comes

That Great Nargothrond Soap Opera-Act 1.

I am really hating this part of the story and will likely continue hating this until Nargothrond is razed to the ground (or below it).

**The Stranger Comes **

_Year 490_

Finduilas

My darling is back. He is much changed by his captivity. He brought a friend – an actual Man. The city hasn't seen one of those since the days of King Finrod. I don't know what to think. The Man looks much like my Gwindor of bygone days. Hair as dark as a raven's wing and those biceps… My fiancé seems a shadow of his former self. I understand he has been maimed during his imprisonment by the Shadow. My ladies find Gwindor's presence rather unsettling. After he lost his right hand, receiving love letters from him just isn't the same. His calligraphy was such a dream back then. Now I am stuck deciphering chicken scratches. Then he has lost all his good looks. Some even mistake him for the Secondborn (on the cusp of their twilight years).

This is so confusing. I try to be nice to him but he no longer wants to talk with me about music and other artistic stuff. He prefers to sulk off alone when I try to speak with him. He rages at the healers whenever they suggest talking about his time in captivity will make him feel better. This is nothing like the Gwindor I knew! Perhaps it will no longer work out between us… Well, Luthien did exceedingly well with her Man. Perhaps I should get to know our Mannish guest better… Maybe Gwindor will start paying attention to me again if I do.

* * *

Turin Turambar aka Agarwaen

I think she likes likes me. I feel like a total cad. She's Gwindor's intended after all. And I so owe him. Perhaps if I make it clear to the lady she's like a sister to me… Oh gosh, she really is pretty, even for an elf-maid. I have seen my fair share of elf-maidens back then… If Gwindor does not want to wed her, perhaps I might have a chance.

Let's see, Mister Nobody with a shady past. I will be lucky if His Majesty (bless his soft heart) does not have me thrown into the river for candoodling with his princess. Of course, Turin, son of Hurin the mighty Mannish hero will probably have every elf-maid in this city swooning at his feet. Nah, better not risk it. I will be beating them off with a stick all day. I do wonder if Gwindor has any news about that stable-hand job. Banditry is fine, but a man does need some stability after a while from all that constant ill luck. Somehow, I do believe my name is jinxed somehow. Shovelling manure might be better than being some champion.

* * *

Gwindor

Somethings are not fit for the likes of gentle maidens to hear of. Talk about it? I can't talk about it, not even to the healers. They have no idea of the horrors of Angband. All this idle girlish prattling about poetry and music – it seems so superficial to me now.

I do wonder if we should have left our mutual Mannish friend to the mercies of the orcs, but I did promise Beleg to get his buddy Turin to safety. I doubt Thingol will accept him back after that debacle in Doriath that Beleg told me about, foster son or not. I know I have come close to killing some of my father's advisors in my time, but still, that is not done in polite society.

Seriously, methinks the Man is a jinx. How can a simple prank backfire so spectacularly? Could there be some truth to those rumours that Morgoth cursed the line of Hurin? Perhaps for everyone's safety, we should cast him out of the city… Elvish hospitality be damned. I think Finrod Felagund will be spinning in his grave like a top. His late Majesty was always big on hospitality.

* * *

Orodreth

Gwindor came back, so I guess it was a lucky thing Finduilas did not get married off in his absence. Things could have become very awkward. Still, it is a pity he is no longer as handsome as he was before he was taken captive. That Mannish friend of his seems to be rather bright. Easy on the eyes too. I do believe my little girl has taken a shine to him… Perhaps we can persuade Gwindor to call off the betrothal like my counsellors keep suggesting. At the very least, the council will cease their nagging.

**Author's notes: **

Finduilas is playing a dangerous game and she doesn't know it. I do wonder what Finrod Felagund would have made of Turin Turambar, considering his reaction to Beren.


	16. The Champion of Nargothrond

Nargothrond soap opera Act 2. Cat's out of the bag and someone is in the doghouse.

**The Champion of Nargothrond**

_Year 490_

Gwindor

I am such an idiot. Now Finduilas knows he is Turin, son of the great champion Hurin, I am yesterday's castoff fashion. I thought she would be sensible about the entire curse from Morgoth thing but apparently not. What's worse is that one of her nosy ladies was listening in and she went off to yap about our private conversation to half the court. So Agarwaen, Son of Ill-fate, is now Captain Turin of Nargothrond, courtesy of His Majesty.

Finduilas seems to have entirely lost her head with our new captain, hanging on to his every word. I mean, was growing up in Doriath that interesting? Somehow, I have been barred from the throne room. The next thing I know, my betrothal has been called off by decree of the king at his daughter's urging. Good grief, was she that superficial? Then I learn I have been assigned a job in the kitchens…

* * *

Finduilas

Atto is an idiot. What you asked me whether I like Turin, I didn't really mean that I like like him that way! Is it too late to take back that decree? Gwindor's no longer speaking to me and I have been hearing less-than-flattering remarks around the corners about faithless princesses from the matrons of the city.

Argh, do you have any idea how bad this reflects on me? This scandal is going to ruin my reputation for the next few Ages! I believe the bards will be singing songs of Finduilas the Faithless until Arda is Unmade. To cap things off, Turin is mortal, so I can only expect his company for the next six decades or so before Lord Namo calls him into his Halls and beyond.

* * *

Turin Turambar

Oh wow, I can really get used to this captain stuff. I never had such fine clothes and what gorgeous rooms, even in Doriath. It sure beats wearing the same clothes for weeks on end and huddling with several other equally smelly bandits in that hovel. Oh, do those skimpily-dressed fair ladies come with the rooms? Never mind, I better send them packing as it will never do for the princess to stumble over them if she decides to visit me.

I suppose I better start earning my keep. Perhaps I should suggest some new construction projects, like a proper bridge across the river? Maybe an overhaul of the current tactics. This guerrilla warfare thing probably hasn't been reviewed since the time of Finrod Felagund. I thought the Eldar enjoyed grand battles to better show off all their battle-finery, especially the Noldor.

To do list:

Revamp outdated battle tactics

Improve transport by building new bridge

Try to figure out whether I really have been given a princess' hand in marriage

Seems the Council here is full of dead-weights like Saeros. Perhaps I should start by overhauling the council first as a favour to my future law-father. This could get messy…

* * *

Orodreth

Oh, goody, now that troublesome betrothal is off, we can start planning a proper wedding for my little girl. I better make an appointment with the seamstress. Not sure why my little girl seems to be mad at me. I even had Gwindor barred from the throne room lest he makes a scene. I hope he likes his new job in the kitchens turning the spit. We do not seem to have much use for a one-handed former warrior-elf. Having his ugly face about the court just plain unsettles the ladies.

Well, I can't say I am all that keen about a Mannish law-son – all that stuff about Beren and Luthien aside. I suppose if the marriage does not work out, my girl will be free to marry again in a couple of decades. In the meantime, I can start looking for suitable law-sons to take Turin's place.

Oh, has anyone seen Lord Spiffy-hair or whatever-his-name is? I do hope he is not indisposed. He said he had some urgent matters about the new patrol schedule to discuss. Where's Lord Baggy-pants? He still owes me from last week's whist game.

**Author's Notes: **

I will leave it open to interpretation on what happened to the deadweights in Council. No use for a one-handed warrior elf? I think Orodreth's lucky Mad Maedhros did not hear about this.


	17. When a Vala Warns

Where Ulmo throws in the towel about those stubborn elves.

**When a Vala Warns**

_Year 494_

Turin

Just like the Valar to rain on our fun. Just when we finally got our grand bridge up, some weirdos from the coast turn up demanding we tear the entire thing down on orders of Lord Ulmo of the Waters or something. Well, His Majesty is not listening to them and they can take a hike, I say.

On a lighter note, Finduilas suggested I should pick up some poetry-writing since her last beau fancied himself a bit of a bard. That really sucks. I am lousy at rhyming, but I will give it a shot. Perhaps crib something from the pages of _The Forbidden Scribbles of Daeron on Luthien_ I use to line my boots with to keep my toes from freezing.

_Your bosom is the well-spring of my hopes,_

_Your hair is the peacefulness of the darkest night…_

Wait, that does not work. Finduilas is blond, not dark-haired

_Your hair is as the rays of the sun…_ Fine, now what rhymes with sun?

What is this line about flowers and secret sanctums? And where does a willow staff come into it? That is why I hate Eldar love poetry. Never made any sense to no one. Give me a good old heroic ballad anytime.

* * *

Orodreth

Lord Cirdan sent some of his lads up from the coast with some dire warning about the new bridge, just as I was opening it officially. It puts a damper on the ceremony. My future law-son reassured me that old elf has probably gone gaga from drinking too much and staring at the sea. I mean, if Lord Ulmo really has an issue with our bridge, he could just wash it away with the Narog… Wait, I hope Lord Ulmo does not see this.

Well, Elu Thingol did not do too badly with a Mannish law-son, apart from his daughter going mortal as well… I mean, he ended up with a Silmaril where the Feanorions failed. I doubt Finduilas will ever dare go mortal on me. She adores her Ada too much for that. I think I will stick with the bridge and this new campaigning thingy instead of all that sneaking in the dark about Uncle Finrod was fond of. I never understood that stealth thingy he had the guards try to train me in. I mean, was it that important that I learnt how to creep about like a shadow in the night? It is not as though I am fond of that bed-hopping sport he was into.

* * *

Finduilas

I hear from my ladies my Ada just topped himself in idiocy – a feat we had thought nigh impossible since he banished Gwindor to kitchen duty on grounds he was too ugly for court life. When your city's patron Vala speaks, you listen and obey. Not shoo the messengers off with arrows. What was Turin thinking? I do hope Lord Ulmo's in a forgiving mood, lest we find ourselves flooded out.

Argh! I have half a mind to don ellon's clothing and hit the road for Balar. Though let's be fair, my direction sense stinks and it is more likely I will find myself on Angband's doorstep instead if I take off alone. Wonder if I can get a message to Gwindor. He's probably the only one left with sense about here. I suppose I will get used to him being one-handed and his scars. Turin turned out to be such a peacock but everyone else thinks I am head over heels in love with him. Fine, he can dance but wait a few more decades and he wouldn't be strutting his stuff on the dance floor with the ladies.

* * *

Gwindor

The bridge is up. We might as well start blowing trumpets and roll out the welcome mat for the Black Foe and his minions. Campaigning? I remember my last campaign. Fancy banners and trumpets, shiny armour and glorious rallying speeches. Look where I ended up. Fourteen years in the mines of Angband, that's where. Even Lord Ulmo is not keen on His Majesty's new take on our fight against Morgoth. I wonder how Finduilas is holding up. I heard from the butler she and Turin were dancing all evening. Well, I doubt she will be keen on leaving her life as princess here.

Too bad Lord Cirdan's envoys did not stay around long enough for me to join them on the road back to Balar. I will miss Finduilas but I doubt she will miss me much. There is nothing left for me in Nargothrond. At least in Balar, I might meet my Atto, as disappointing a reunion that will be. I'd like to meet up with Tyelpe again. I wonder if he can fashion an artificial hand to help me out with life a bit. Nothing too fancy, but enough to help steady a broom and such.

**Author's Notes: **

Can't really blame Orodreth there, can we? He isn't going to be around to witness the sticky end of Doriath. It is too bad Gwindor and Finduilas did not manage to talk to each other and hatch a plan to elope to Balar, but given Turin has effectively jinxed Nargothrond, they might end up eaten by werewolves or something.


	18. The Final Stand

Along came a dragon. Almost everyone ends up in Mandos. Except for Turin, who lives to infect a whole lot of other folks with his family curse. Yes, this is the last, very short chapter of the Nargothrond Pillowbooks.

**The Final Stand**

_Year 494_

Turin

Oh goody, we finally have a fine battle to look forward to. I do hope I will make my father proud (not that I remember much about him). I do wonder if I can sneak a visit to my golden princess' boudoir before we march out. Or should we wait until after the glorious victory?

I must go sharpen my sword. It thirsts for orc-blood. Is my helm polished yet?

Poetry? Why bother with that stuff?

List of things to bring into battle:

Really cool elvish sword

Fancy armour and helm

Fancy banner to ride under (well, some page can carry that)

Shield

Mighty elvish steed

Waterskin and rations

A change of clothes (cannot ride home in victory all covered with muck and blood)

* * *

Gwindor

I suppose I should count my blessings that since they are mustering men for a great battle, I have been recalled from the kitchens. My old comrade mentioned something about me being of more use (even without a hand) than some of the featherbrain lordlings His Majesty put in charge. I haven't heard from Finduilas in a while. Wonder if she still remembers me?

Things to get from armoury

Sword

Shield (will need someone to tie it on my arm)

Armour (basic model will do)

Oh, am I entitled to a horse?

* * *

Orodreth

Oh dear me, dearie me. I do hope I can make my Atto proud today. An actual battle. I hope it goes much better than that last one, which I seem to recall riding for safety so hard, I had saddle sores. Does this new breastplate suit me? The new boots I commissioned last month still pinch something fierce, I hope it will not affect my riding.

Afterwards, I will talk to the Council about bringing forward my little girl's wedding. Who's the groom again?

* * *

Finduilas

Tell me what is fun about getting news of a massing of orcs on our doorstep. Is it too late to sing that bridge into the river? Does anyone still remember how to go about that?

Why are you lads treating this like a summer picnic-outing? Manwe above! I thought only my ladies are capable of such flea-brained nonsense. This is a battle – folks get killed (if they are lucky). Not some grand soiree where you can show off your new armour! Hello, is anyone listening? No, I am not fussing about what silks to wear when that Man rides back in victory. Argh! What in Lord Ulmo's name is going on here?

Is it too late to look for an escape route from this city other than the damned bridge? Did Uncle Finrod put in a back door or something in the cellars?

**Author's Notes:**

And Finrod rolls over in his grave at news a dragon has moved into his city thanks to his nephew forgetting that 'hidden' part of the entire venture.


End file.
